Not A Pirate
by East-Coast-Invictus
Summary: Ch 1. There's a reason the Elizabeth felt that going to Norrington was right. Ch 2. There's a reason Will is not a pirate. Yet.
1. Not A Pirate: Norrington

AN: Eh, one shot and meh first Pirates one at that. Just a little slightly fluffy thing between Norrington and Elizabeth. Takes place after all three movies. No, I haven't seen the third one but I just kind of made up some events. On the musical pieces in the following fanfiction, I cannot remember for the life of me which century Bach was in. The beats per minute is estimated. Forgive me if I am mistaken. Enjoy!

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The library rippled with the pure clean notes of Bach's English Suite No. 3 in G minor, its 120 bmp speeding the notes along. It was a small library, fitting for the not overly-large manor positioned on one of the higher hills overlooking Port Royal. As one wandered through its halls, the manor was the epitome of simplicity. Yet, despite its seeming plainness, a detailed feeling and memory left with the visitor. The typical portraits of the manor family's forefathers decorated the white trimmed corridors. It was a little less than sprawling, not a perfect family home. But, this was a bachelor's abode. Endless halls and numerous rooms was the last thing he needed. The house was built around the basics: a den, entrance hall, dining room, library, a main bedroom and several small spares.

A large oak clock sitting in the entrance hall ground its gears and a deep 'gong' reverberated from inside it as the delicate hands reached 11 AM. The Suite slowed down into its third movement, Sarabande at about the same time. The deft, skillful execution of the song was apparent as a pair of hands moved and compressed the ivory and ebony keys of the piano. Under the large instrument, one foot tapped along slowly keeping the beat firm. No fire burned on the unused hearth to the piano's back. The grand fireplace was the oddest thing in the entire manor. Who needed a fireplace in the Caribbean?

The man sitting at the piano knew this was a pastime of his that not many could see him doing. Well, not many had either. A white shirt with loose sleeves and a bit of lace at the throat hung from the man's shoulders. Slightly baggy blue trousers ended at his knees. Being mostly out of uniform felt strange, odd even. Since his promotion to commodore, the gold, blue, and white officer's uniform had become his day-to-day wear. The many buttoned jacket hung on a wooden hanger near the library door, the feather rimmed hat just above it.

And, no white officer's wig graced his head. It actually sat on a wooden model of a head in his bedroom. The Suite came to a trilled end and one hand reached up to tuck a stray lock of dark brown hair behind one ear. The rest of it was tied up with a bit of cloth at the nape of his neck. With one hand poised over the keys, the other reached up to flip through several pages of music before stopping on another Bach piece. A breath was inhaled and the deft fingers were mere millimeters over the keys when the library doors opened.

"Commodore, your lunch is ready," a female servant announced, bobbing a curtsey before scurrying off. A sigh escaped James Norrington as he let his hands fall to his sides and rose from the piano bench. Re-donning his jacket but leaving the superfluous hat, he stepped evenly down the hall following the servant's trail. The dining room doors were already open as he walked in, adjusting his jacket collar. A man servant pulled a chair out for him as Norrington approached.

"Much appreciated, Miles," the commodore said with a pleasant smile, nodding to the man. Miles smiled and nodded as well. The man had been in the family for decades and now served the current Norrington.

"Not a problem, Commodore," he replied, ducking a short bow before turning and heading into the kitchen. A smile flashed across James' face before flipping his coat tails back and sitting down. The servants in his household were well-treated and there was a close, pleasant relationship between him and them. Miles was the oldest servant in the house and the only one to cross over from England from the old house. The man refused payment and no matter what argument Norrington presented him with, he always said no. The others were paid, however, since most of them were hired after his arrival to the Caribbean.

The lunch was simple. Norrington preferred it that way. Heating up the kitchens in the middle of the day just made the house uncomfortable; a bowl of soup fit him to a tea. The servants in the kitchen also went off duty and shared the table with him, each with their own modest vittles. Morning and meal times were basically the only times they saw their superior and it was actually rather nice. Today had been an anomaly; the commodore had grown slightly weary of his duties and had retired to the library several hours ago to wind down. With merchant ships and navy ships coming and going, what with their missions of profit and exploration, it got rather tiresome.

The merchants always seemed to complain about something or other and would demand his presence. He'd go with a roll of the eyes to find it was actually a petty complaint that could have been prevented easily. He'd left things with Gillette and a captain. Both were capable men and could handle the job for a couple of hours.

Norrington's spoon set down for the final time into the empty bowl and he rose, wiping away a small drop of excess soup and brushing some bread crumbs from his jacket. The servants rose as well, bidding him a good day and a bow as he walked from the room.

One hand was on the brass door handle when he realized he'd forgotten three other items of his uniform. One was shoes. Walking around in stocking-ed feet was a small thing he enjoyed. It was hardly proper but it only happened when there was no company.

Newly wigged, hat on head, and shoes on feet, Norrington made his way over to the small stable near by on the sweeping, green lawn. The sky above was clear blue and a few puffy clouds hung suspended in the atmosphere. His sword bounced on one hip, his pistol on the other and he had pulled on leather riding gloves. A grand bay horse perked its head up at his approach, ears rotated forward. The mare whinnied as she spotted her master, one white stocking foot lifted in the air.

He saddled the horse himself, letting the stable hands head inside for lunch. The mare was almost a one-man horse. She allowed very few other men to handle her. It was just as well. Only one other horse frequented the stables, an old white gelding. Not the most exciting stable mate and the mare reveled in her time away from the small estate.

After the few hours of relaxation, Norrington was in an oddly good mood. A small smile was plastered on his face as the mare trotted down the long drive way leading into Port Royal's small port town. He felt now like he could take on anyone. There hadn't been many reports of pirates frequenting the streets and docks like a few months ago. It felt like a great weight had been lifted from his chest and Norrington still smiled as he passed through the town's main street and spotted no suspicious persons.

But, like a reoccurring cold, he knew this lull would end. But, it wasn't a matter to dwell on at the moment. His gaze looked beyond the port and spotted dark clouds on the horizon. Despite himself, Norrington winced. He hoped this wasn't some sort of omen.

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"Is the Commodore in?"

Gazette furrowed her brow at the woman who had come to call upon James. The man had just gotten back from the port after leaving several hours before and was back in the library. The woman seemed familiar. She was rather nice looking, wavy blonde hair done back in a French braid. Faintly, Gazette could hear Norrington playing away on the piano. "I'll go see if he's not too busy, miss…" she paused for a name.

"Turner. Mrs. Turner." The woman blinked suddenly. "Just tell him it's Elizabeth." Ah. That was why she was familiar. Elizabeth Swann, now Turner had been the girl Norrington had proposed to and had been turned down. The poor man had seemed so downcast afterwards. Gazette tried not to sneer.

"I'll see if he's not too busy, Mrs. Turner. Please, step inside. That weather is ghastly." A small hurricane was beginning to move in and it was drizzling and windy outside.

Elizabeth stepped in after shaking water droplets from an umbrella and remained on the threshold, Gazette closing the door behind her. The maid scurried off towards the library with mixed emotions.

Hands once again held almost delicately over the piano keys, Norrington was in the middle of the Bach's English Suite when Gazette came in. She appeared flustered but the commodore didn't pause in playing. He looked up as the oak doors opened. "What's wrong, Gazette? Did she get out again?" By 'she', Norrington meant his bay mare. She'd been appearing in the front yard the past couple of days and the stable hands hadn't found any faults in the fences yet.

"Elizabeth Turner to see you, sir. Should I tell her you're busy?" James felt his eyes rolling wearily but his hands stayed in motion. He'd only just gotten in a few minutes ago. His jacket, now hanging up, was still damp from the drizzle. Elizabeth was the last person he _wanted_ to see at the moment but if she'd bothered to come all the way out to the house, then she must have something to say.

"No. Send her into the den; I'll be out in a minute." Gazette curtsied quickly and whirled out, leaving the doors open. He turned his focus back to the piece. Elizabeth could wait for him to finish.

Distantly, Elizabeth could hear the maid's voice. It was heavily accented, much like the lady in waiting she'd had at her father's house. Then there was a deeper-toned voice; James. And, just slightly louder than the two, the sound of music drifted faintly into the hall. Did the man keep a professional piano player? James had never seemed to be the type to listen, much less enjoy, music. The voices stopped and the maid scurried back into the hall. "He'll be with you in just a moment, Mrs. Turner. If you'll just wait in the den…" The woman's voice faded as she pointed to a room a few feet away and on the right.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said with a smile. The maid curtsied and whirled off, leaving her alone. She wandered almost absently into the little room. Her eyes cast around the den as she stopped just inside the door. Various portraits hung on the four walls. One of them was easily identified as Norrington himself, garbed in full Commodore uniform. The other three were men in naval uniforms as well. No doubt fathers, grandfathers, uncles, or brothers or something of the sort; there were indeed vague similarities between all four.

The room bore two small couches, several chairs, and a long table that reached her knees. Delicate lighting was positioned in several corners. In all, it was a stylish if rather plain room. She had never been to Norrington's home and to be honest, she thought it would have been larger. He always seemed so smug, so sure of himself and had seemed to have wanted to boast even further by owning a large house. But, no. A simple estate overlooking the port, a fair amount of land, a one story house, stables, and two horses. There weren't even many servants running around, fixing this or that. A few stable hands had been working on a section of fencing when she arrived but no more than the maid who answered the door had been seen.

She waited for maybe five to ten minutes when the piano music stopped and the sound of steps approached the room. And so, James Norrington appeared adjusting that signature blue and gold jacket. Elizabeth rose from her seat. He brushed something from the collar and then gestured for her to sit. It was one of the few times she'd even seen him without that white officer's wig. The last time had been during the Davy Jones fiasco and then, he had been half covered in grime and dirt. Now, a thick wave of dark brown hair had been tamed and pulled back.

Norrington sat down across from Eilzabeth and looked straight at her, a smile playing with his business like expression. "You look well. How's the marriage coming?" he asked, seemingly truly curious. She was taken aback for a second.

"Fine, thank you," she replied. He nodded and they both fell silent.

"You have a reason for coming?" he queried.

"I do but…" An embarrassed smile flickered across her face. "I don't quite remember what it was." He gave a snort, chuckling lightly.

"I figured as much."

"How are you, James?" Her voice had a concerned note in it that made him glance up at her. Odd. She had used his first name as well.

"Good. The port was busy getting ready for the upcoming storm and things were rather hectic." A few incompetent rookies got a crash course in learning how to secure moorings and the like. They also got an earful when Gillette was inadvertently knocked over the side of _The Dauntless_. By now, the port was battened down and awaiting the hurricane.

Elizabeth nodded, eyes falling to the floor. "Is there reason you ask, Mrs. Turner?" The title felt odd on his tongue but it was only proper.

"I've been…indecisive of late." His brow furrowed. Indecisive? About what? He voiced his thoughts.

She chewed the bottom of her lip, eyes sneaking a glance at him. "My choice of…of marriage."

"So it's not going fine?" Her head shook slowly and she gave him the impression of child almost, one that was confused about where something went.

"I used to be sure that Will was the one I loved. But, while I spent time with Jack Sparrow on The Black Pearl, Jack leant me his compass. The reason it doesn't point north is because it points to what you want the most." Norrington had a feeling on where this was going. Well, he had been there hadn't he, when he found her looking towards the pirate with that hopeless look. She snorted humorlessly and rolled her eyes, giving him an apologetic look. "I'm sure you can guess what happened next."

He tried hard to suppress a chuckle. "I believe I can. I was there after all." His efforts failed and a low laugh escaped him. "Forgive me for laughing but I find it…interesting that your…and this may be the wrong word, but…your affections are drifting towards the man that sent your fiancé –excuse me- husband on a suicide mission to claim a key from the lord of the ocean."

He used the term 'lord of the ocean' lightly. Davy Jones basically controlled the big blue expanse but at the moment, the key and heart were hidden. Even from Jack's all-finding compass. The thing had been smashed after Jones reclaimed his heart.

Elizabeth heaved an exasperated sigh, leaning back on her couch. One hand reached up and she pinched the bridge of her nose. "It sounds ludicrous but you have the idea."

Norrington chuckled again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Elizabeth, if you're looking for a solution to this, you may have come to the wrong person."

"Oh, I know." Her quick reply caught him off guard for a moment. "I just feel…" A finger tapped her chin for a moment. "…more comfortable telling it to someone else other than Will or my father. It'll probably just make Will angry and my father is…well, he's my father." She glanced towards him and Norrington nodded. It was a comforting feeling that she'd come to him to confess in a sense. But, also atypical.

"And why is that?" His tone was slightly incredulous. No answer to the question came to his mind but the trusting expression that replaced the worried one Elizabeth had worn, baffled him. What could she possibly say?

"Because you're not a pirate."


	2. Not A Pirate: Will

"I hate t' burst yer bubble, lad, but yer no more a pirate than I am a saint." Barbossa's eyes were amused over the rim of his cup, a derisive chuckle muffled by a mouthful of rum.

"He does make a very good point there, William." While the other captain was conservative in the consumption of alcohol, Jack Sparrow was very liberal. A little extra never hurt. He swirled the amber liquid in the bottle before tipping it back.

Across the table, Will glowered slightly at them. "But you said once yourself, Jack, that I was well on my way to becoming one. Well, we've come a long way since then. Certainly my actions justify the title."

The three men were seated in Jack's cabin, sharing a drink to celebrate the fact that they were no longer in Davy Jones' personal Hell. It was a relaxed truce of sorts, every one of them still on guard after the failed attempt to shoot each other earlier that day. The gun powder still hadn't dried yet. Conversation had meandered back and forth and somehow got on the subject of piracy. Of course Jack and Barbossa were bonafied pirates, had been so for many years now. Will had remarked somewhat sardonically that he was joining the ranks. And at that, both captains had laughed aloud.

"The actions, yes, but the drive behind them?" Jack looked dubiously at the young man and then glanced sideways at Barbossa, who shook his head.

"Not piratical in the least bit."

"How so? I've commandeered a ship, broke you out of jail, sailed with a crew from Tortuga…I've even survived the Flying Dutchman!"

"Ah but all of that a pirate does not make," Jack replied with drunk but graceful hand movement. His smile was almost patronizing. Barbossa sniffed once, turning his cup in his hands.

"T'was the thought behind i'tall. A bit too eh…" He and Jack glanced at each other and spoke simultaneously:

"A bit too heroic."

"You were quite a bit of victim, actually," Jack added.

"Aye." Barbossa set down his cup. An amusing thought seemed to occur to him. "Cry-minettly… Elizabeth Swann is turnin' out t' be more of a pirate than you are." Beside him, Jack nodded sagely.

"Oh yes. Miss Swann, should she ever continue on the path she's on, could very well become one of the great female pirates." Will looked horrified. Barbossa snorted into his rum.

"I wouldn't go as far as t' say _that_!" he declared with a laugh. This time, it was Will and Jack who spoke at the same time:

"Why not?"

Barbossa glanced from one to the other, one side of his mouth pulled up in a laughing smirk. "_Why not_?" he echoed. "Take a look at the lass! I admit she's 'ad her sharp moments but…" The pirate barked out a laugh. "She ain't no Anne Bonny." At this, the other two seemed to relent and nodded reluctantly. "S'far as I'm concerned, she's still wet behind the ears when it comes to proper piratin'… like you," he finished, gesturing with a hand towards Will.

"Aye, you've a ways to go before you're fully qualified."

The young man rolled his eyes, vexed. "What does it take then to be considered a pirate?" he said angrily. Both captains seemed to sit back and think.

"Never stopped t' think of it, actually."

"Me neither."

"Ooh, being able to hold your rum is one."

"Says you."

"Aye. Says I."

"Well, a fair record o' plunderin' says I."

"Always helps, that. Would smugglin' be something t' consider?"

"Eh, I reckon it could…"

"Don't forget multiple escapes from th' law. Fights wiv the Navy, that sort of lot."

"Aye, and a price on yer head."

"Yes. And most important of all an obsession wiv treasure."

"Maybe not 'most important' but it plays a good role."

"But I've done most of that," Will replied after a moment. "And I don't think it's really likely that that's all it takes." Jack was the first to reply.

"Let's examine tha' claim, shall we? I've never seen you drink a bit of rum. You've not been plunderin'. I'm sure the only thing you've ever smuggled is emotional baggage…" Here, Jack paused, one finger tapping his chin. After a moment of thought, he nodded. "Now, since you 'ave escaped th' law more than once, there is bound t' be some sort of price on your head." He grinned suddenly. "And we've been over your 'treasure obsession' before." Will glared at him from across the table.

"That makes ye only half a pirate," Barbossa added, pushing his glass away from him, getting to his feet. He grinned unpleasantly as he spoke, chuckling slightly.

"Sorry, boy," Jack admitted with a shrug, standing as well. He looked to Barbossa. "They'll be sighting land soon."

"Aye," the other captain replied. And without another word, they left the cabin, leaving Will spluttering in anger at the table.

۞

AN: No, not another Norrington, sorry. And no, there really isn't such a time gap in AWE for this to occur but yeah...This just sort of struck me the other day. I thought there were bits of it that are mildly funny but it's more or less just another rant. Let me know what you think, please!


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